


The Watcher in the Woods

by SecretlyThranduil



Series: Hungry Eye, Ancient Soul [2]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fae, Fae & Fairies, Fae Magic, Finrod is creepy af, Gen, observant narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-17 03:06:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28842093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SecretlyThranduil/pseuds/SecretlyThranduil
Summary: "The creature has been with us for many weeks, and Balan caved to its wish to learn. He has been teaching it our language, our politics, our culture. Our very way of life. Wherever we go, it is there. Watching. Always watching."Something does not bode well with this golden stranger in our camp, and yet, there is nothing to be done about it. I can only watch, and pray that what I fear does not come to pass.And it will.
Series: Hungry Eye, Ancient Soul [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2149974
Comments: 11
Kudos: 33





	The Watcher in the Woods

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JazTheBard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JazTheBard/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Hungry Eye, Ancient Soul](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25354426) by [JazTheBard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JazTheBard/pseuds/JazTheBard), [SecretlyThranduil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SecretlyThranduil/pseuds/SecretlyThranduil). 



We do not know who he is.

We do not know where he came from.

The creature tells us that he is a king, but what a king would be doing lurking in this forest, I cannot say.

He tells us that he was hunting with his kin when he tired of the sport, and now he comes to visit us. Some part of me believes that we are his new prey, a more interesting pursuit, and that he has something planned for us.

The creature must be toying with us, but Balan cannot see it. He does not want to hear it; he only wishes to hear the whispers which come from those treacherous lips. We tell him that something is wrong, that many things about him make us uneasy, but Balan has fallen to whatever enchantment this creature has placed upon us. He has fallen to that golden temptation.

And what a temptation it is. A man would have to be blind not to see it, to be intrigued. To be drawn to it. Whatever it is.

We first woke to its music, a soft voice in a song we could not understand, and yet, could not stop listening to. We were entranced. The creature had taken Balan’s harp, and the music was such as our ears had never heard before, and could not even hope to describe. It made us feel like all was right with the world, like all our anxieties and suffering was no more. And yet, Balan was most affected. Perhaps that was the creature’s plan. To come for our leader.

He befriended us, and convinced Balan that we should settle in the realm of its kin, always whispering in his ear, influencing his decisions, bending him to its will. I cannot help but think that this was a measure to place us under their control, however many of these creatures there are. So they can watch us, learn more about us. The creature in our midst is always so keen to learn more about us. Wandering about the camp, watching how we work, how we hold council, how we live. It does not sit well with me. We know nothing of them, but I fear that they are learning our strengths and weaknesses.

The creature has been with us for many weeks, and Balan caved to its wish to learn. He has been teaching it our language, our politics, our culture. Our very way of life. Wherever we go, it is there. Watching. Always watching. It had been teaching Balan in return too, under the guise of friendship, and yet, we cannot understand it. Balan seems to understand perfectly, but this is a language alien to us, one we cannot begin to learn, no matter how hard we try to listen. Perhaps the creature does not want us to understand.

The creature has been here a ling time, and many people still do not suspect anything is amiss. Balan certainly does not. After all, who would suspect that one so beautiful could be dangerous? That words softly spoken could be a hidden poison? Could a being that lovely really mean us harm?

I certainly believe so.

Alas, it is Balan that it wants, and he has him. It has always been fascinated by him, in a way which it has never been with the rest of us. Yes, at first, we were lost in the enchantment, enchanted by its song, but the longer the creature spent in Balan’s shadow, manipulating him, the more it began to shatter. The illusion began to fade.

Oh believe me, the creature is still beautiful. More so than should be naturally possible. And yet, the little details are starting to break through whatever magic has been cast upon us. Some in the camp refuse to admit it, still pretending that this is some godly visitor of good fortune, but we have all seen it. When the sun sets, its eyes reflect the firelight, like those of the wolves who like to toy with their prey. When it smiles at Balan, his teeth are sharp, too sharp.

Like a predator which has finally cornered its prey.

Balan is well and truly enchanted, and he does not even know it. And, although some others in the camp will not listen to me, I do not think there is anything we can do to save him.

There are a few in the camp who believe as I do, that we were enchanted and that Balan remains under that spell, but they are under the impression that we broke out of that enchantment because we realised his true nature. I believe differently, for I am more perceptive than most. I watch the creature as much as it watches us. I think perhaps it let us go, that we were part of his game all along, that we were the more interesting prey it set out to find. But it was not us who it wanted in the end, and the tribe was placed under enchantment just long enough so that when we learned the truth, there would be nothing we could do for our chief.

I know he is lost to us.

Even his son cannot get through to him now, no matter how much he implores him.

As I speak, Balan is preparing to leave the camp. We tried to convince him not to leave with the creature, but our pleas fell on deaf ears. It was like trying to communicate with a ghost, his face void of any emotion, only insisting that he must follow.

The creature watches, a cruel grin on his face. It called Balan by another name now: Bëor. I do not know what this word means in its strange tongue, but as with all its actions, it cannot bode well. We will not be able to convince him to stay, and he will disappear off to this golden king’s realm.

We will never see him again.

But this fey creature?

I am sure that he will return for more of our kin, long after those who remember are gone.

When we are no longer wary of what may lurk in the woods.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Chapter Two of mine and JazTheBard's fic 'Hungry Eye Ancient Soul' because I love creepy Finrod so much


End file.
